Love of a Lifetime
by BlackOpal
Summary: If fate handed you your soulmate, would you keep him or hand him back? --A Quil/Claire story. Post-Imprint.


A/N: Hello! This is my second Twilight fanfic. It's my first Q/C and I just recently discovered this ship when I read an amazing fanfic that I can't remember the name of darnit. This fanfic is a two shot most likely, maybe a three shot. So read, review and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but Stephenie Meyer does.

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A knock at my door made me shift uncomfortably. The heavy cast made any quick movements impossible.

"Come in," I said and a petite woman opened it.

"Claire honey, your parents aren't answering. Isn't there anyone else we could call to pick you up?" I wanted nothing more than to tell her not to worry about it, I was more than capable to find my way home myself. However, the plaster reminded me just how helpless I was.

"I can drive you," Taylor quipped from my bedside.

I cringed, imagining the faces of my mother and father as I walked up the walk on crutches with Taylor at my side.

"Um, I don't think that's such a great idea." Taylor's shoulders fell. I was beginning to wonder why I had agreed to this date in the first place. Aside from having the balls to drive me to the hospital instead of ditching me on my doorstep, he had remained quite unimpressive throughout the ordeal. The smile that had made my heart flutter was now pretty annoying as he peered at me over the starch, stiff hospital blanket.

Getting back to the matter at hand, I took the stationary pad that was a staple of a hospital room and scribbled down a number, knowing he would be there and wondering why I hadn't given it to the nurse in the first place.

"Here, he'll be there. He's a family friend." More than a family friend, more like my one true best friend on this entire earth, but the nurse didn't need to know that.

She seemed happy with this number and excused herself to call my ride. Taylor exhaled and I knew that a string of apologies was to follow.

"Hey, look Claire, I know that this kinda sucks right now, but once you get back up on your feet—you know, without the crutches—we'll try it again. This time, I'll be right by your side ok? I really didn't mean to leave you alone; I just really wanted to try this new move Craig taught me in the rink the other day. I mean come on, who knew you were such a klutz huh?" He nudged my shoulder and smiled. I practically felt my nerves grind against my brain.

"Yea," I said, returning his with a smile of my own. He didn't notice the strain behind it.

"God, you're so beautiful when you smile." I saw the hand, I saw it reach up. I felt it land somewhere near my cheek. I was stunned. This was the guy who came up with the genius idea of ice skating for a date and then left me clutching the edge while he went off and did some weird backward-skate-break thing. I was supposed to enjoy this physical touch while my ankle was throbbing in protest?

The door opened and from the low growl I knew who it was. He was huge, dark, and handsome and entirely mine. Quil was not happy. Even from the doorway I could see that. Taylor turned to look behind him and immediately, his hand shot back down at his side.

"Hey there Quil! Thanks for coming to get me." I smiled. It was a real one this time, Quil was here to save me. A true knight in shining armor, only this time, it was sweaty jet black hair.

Quil was big, so big he had to duck to get into the doorway, but he did. He looked around the room and spotted my X-ray in the corner—the clean break illuminated. I practically saw the hair on his arm stand up. He cracked his knuckles and his chest rose and fell as he took a few calming breaths. The low rumbling didn't seem to be growing quieter. When he turned around, I could tell they were not very effective.

"Quil, this is Taylor. Taylor, this is my best friend Quil."

Taylor extended his shaky hand towards Quil. I couldn't _possibly_ see what Taylor had to be afraid of. To me, Quil was just my big teddy bear. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Ok, so that's not exactly true. There was the one time he threatened to chop Carl Sullivan into a million little pieces and hide each one in a different place if he ever tried to touch me inappropriately again. Or there was the time he actually shot a shotgun at Alex Rotterfield when he brought me home three hours later than he was supposed to. Quil stated later that he was merely shooting at the target behind Alex's head, but I never really believed that.

Ok, so maybe Taylor did have something to be nervous about. Afterall, those boys never harmed me. They never had to take me to the emergency room. They were never the reason I had a cast on my foot. Taylor was so screwed.

"How'd you get here so fast? The nurse must've just called you like five minutes ago!" Taylor asked as he stretched out against the bed.

Quil crossed the room in one wide step. He situated himself on the opposite side of my bed, looking directly at Taylor. A death glare.

"I was just around the corner," Quil said stiffly. I knew full well how he got here so quickly and I couldn't help smirking at his response. Quil ran his eyes over my position in the bed, shooting me a very concerned look before peeling back the cover. And there it was. My battle wound in its purple glory. His breathing stopped. I mean stopped—dead in his lungs. He gently touched the edge of the plaster and even from under the layer; I felt the heat from his skin. His eyes narrowed, his lips grew tight and the rumble grew louder until it filled the room.

"Look Quil, it's my favorite color!" I exclaimed, giddy because I knew Taylor was going to be in big trouble. I knew it was mean, but I was really hoping Quil would give Taylor hell—in the nicest way possible.

Quil looked at me and raised his eyebrow incredulously as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.

"You're so cute Clairey." Taylor said. Quil's attention snapped towards the offending boy. I saw him mouth the word "Clairey", his lips forming a perfect "oh" at the end. Taylor should've kept his mouth shut. "Hey look man, I'm really sorry about this. How was I supposed to know she couldn't stand on her own two feet? I just wish I could've been there to help her up."

Well, that was it. It was nice knowing you Taylor, I thought as I watched Quil grow rigid. He stared down Taylor, unmovable despite my hand on his.

"I'm sorry?" Quil asked thickly.

"Well you know how it is, she couldn't keep up. I didn't even see her fall, it was just like she was standing one minute and the next—bam!" Taylor actually laughed at this memory. It baffled me. If I wasn't so worried about willing Quil not to kill him, I would be a bit indignant.

Quil's hands formed balls. I could see the massive muscles flexing and contracting. In Quil's head, I knew he was calculating ways to inflict maximum bodily harm. His fists actually began to twitch towards Taylor's direction.

"I think you should go Taylor," I said. "Thanks for taking me to the hospital, Quil will take me home."

Taylor snorted and waved his hand. "I don't have to leave just yet; my mom's not expecting me for another hour."

"Leave," Quil snapped. I drew my hand back in shock. His voice sounded so vicious. I had never heard this tone come from him. He heard the small gasp that escaped from my lips. He turned to look at me and, upon seeing what I can only imagine as a horrified look on my face, rephrased his words to a carefully chosen, carefully calm—"I think it's time to go now please."

Taylor scoffed and shakily said, "Sure, yea, you're probably right. I'll see you at school ok Clairey?" He reached for his backpack, turned and hit himself on the doorway on the way out. He cursed a bit, looked back to wave at me and shut the door.

Ok, so he wasn't the best choice. But damnit, Taylor looked so cute when he asked me out with his face all sweaty from the game, lugging his helmet in one hand and a hot dog in the other. And I wanted to like him. I hadn't had much luck with boys, who's to say that Taylor wouldn't be the one to change all this? I wanted him to change this. Looking down at my heavy ankle, I realized that I'd failed yet again.

Quil sat down on my bed and looked at me. He looked completely relaxed now, rubbing his hands over his short brown hair. He was the happy, go-lucky guy I'd always known. I shifted and then grimaced. I still wasn't used to the weight yet. Quil's face erupted with concern. He leaned over me, checking me with his hands before he placed his hands on either side of me and peered into my eyes.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

I smiled. God, Quil was the best friend a girl could ever have.

"I'm fine. Promise. Can we leave now? I'm hungry and I really don't want to eat hospital food."

Quil laughed heartily. It was good to hear him back to normal after the tense atmosphere. "You're so cute," he snickered. With a malicious grin he added, "Clairey."

I promptly threw the hospital pillow at him. He blocked it easily, of course, and was still laughing as he went to tell the nurse I would be leaving with him.

He returned with crutches, which I managed take only three steps with them until I was enveloped in Quil's arms and carried to the car.

"Too slow, too slow," he muttered. I smiled and pressed my nose against his warm skin. I felt completely safe. There was no other way to describe it. I knew that a bomb could go off or an earthquake could completely shatter the ground we would walk on, but I would never feel any pain—Quil would take it all for me.

He gently placed me in my car. I assumed he had picked it up from the ice rink before he raced over here. In an instant, Quil was in the driver's seat. He gripped the steering wheel. I turned towards him and smiled. I covered his other hand with mine as it laid on the gear shift. My head fell towards his shoulder. He flipped on the heat. I didn't understand why—the heat that radiated from him was more than enough.

"Thanks Quil. You're the best." I traced his hands. His gigantic fingers never failed to astound me. Mine seemed so tiny next to him.

I heard him breathing—inhale, exhale and then catch from somewhere within him. He was withholding something. I could see the inward debate going on in his head.

"What's wrong? Is there something wrong?" I gripped his hand harder, using it to pull myself around in the seat. I felt my heartbeat pick up. I didn't want him hurt, I couldn't bear it.

"I'm ok," he said, placing his other hand over mine on the gear shift. "I'm ok. I promise." I believed him. Quil had told me a long time that he could not lie to him, that it was impossible. We sat in silence. I waited. Something was bothering him and I could tell we weren't getting home until he told me which, quite frankly, was fine with me. I was comfy.

It was coming; I could feel it in his body language. He took one more breathe and looked down at me.

"Why do you do this Claire bear?"

"Do what?" I asked, confused.

"Why do you date these losers? They're boys, they don't know anything about what a woman like you needs."

I gapped. Where was this coming from? "They're not losers, Taylor was stupid, but he was nice. And they're not boys—they're seventeen, same as me. Don't even get me started on the woman comment. I'm hardly a woman." Quil snorted from besides me. He did not believe me. I placed my hand on his cheek. He snuggled against it. "They can't all be Quils, you know."

"They can be." He said this very softly, I didn't think I'd heard him right.

"Sorry?"

He swallowed and tried again, "They can be."

I shook my head, not comprehending what he was saying. "I don't understand."

"Claire, I love you."

"I love you too," I said automatically, because it was true.

He shot me a look. I knew from the emotion hiding behind his eyes that everything was going to change. He was looking at me with a fire that he could barely contain. I began to shake. I didn't want him to say the words. I didn't know what they meant yet, I didn't know how I felt yet. Don't do it.

"No Claire, I'm in love with you." Damnit. I felt the color leave my checks and even with my hand on Quil's face, I was cold. I tried to drop it-- the touch felt too intrusive right now—but he caught it and brought it back to where it was. "I'm in love with you. I have been since the day I saw you and will be until the day I die. I've never loved anyone else, just you."

My breath caught in my chest which was carefully caving in. I couldn't get enough air in my lungs. That didn't make sense. He's loved me since the day he saw me? I was two! I said as much. His response threw me off guard.

"You know about my… extracurricular activities right?" He was tiptoeing around the title. He thought it would scare me if he said it out loud. So I did instead.

"You're a werewolf," I said flatly. It didn't bother me as much as he thought it did. It happened when I was about seven. We were playing in my makeshift fort and eating a picnic when a bear stumbled into our fun. It would have been ok, we would've stayed quiet and the bear would have left. Quil, worried for my safety, phased into the biggest wolf I've ever seen. When he phased back, he explained everything to me. I took it all in, shrugged and then handed him a cookie. You would think the cookie would've clued him in.

"Yea." I watched him scratch his head. I felt like my entire life would hang on this explanation and it bothered me that he was taking his time to explain.

"Werewolves have this thing called imprinting. Um," He swallowed. "When a werewolf imprints on a person, that person becomes their entire life. They essentially live for that person. They become the werewolf's world." He stopped and looked towards me. "Is this making any sense to you?"

Sense? I gapped at him. I was cold and hot at the same time. My breathing had not ceased and my cast itched. I couldn't feel my ankle. I felt my heart tearing in two. I didn't know what any of this meant. It was making no sense. I was lost. But, instead of saying this, I nodded. I nodded because I knew what he was going to say next. I could see the words forming on his lips.

"Clair bear, I imprinted on you."

I felt my world shatter. I had no idea why. My world shifted from underneath me and I didn't know where I was going. I lost all sense of direction. This time, I'm sure my breathing stopped. I tore my hand away from him. It was uncontrollable. I was shaking so bad. His face changed. He took me in and I could see him grow apprehensive.

"Claire, what is it?" He placed his hands on my shoulders. I tried to shake them off, but he thought I was just trembling. He threw himself around me, enveloping me in a hug. "Shhh, it's ok." I felt his fingers entangle in my hair. I could smell him, that woodsy, soapy smell that was such a huge part of my childhood. It was suffocating me now.

"So, all the tea parties, the forts, the chocolate chip cookies… they were all because you imprinted on me? You've been in love with me since I was two? You did all that because of some werewolf legend?" I whispered into his hair. His hug was comforting and overpowering at the same time. I'm sure he could feel the tears fall from my eyes onto his skin.

He pulled back to look into my eyes. He brought his fingers up and brushed them away. "That's not it at all. I love you, not because I imprinted on you, but because you're the most amazing person I've ever met in my entire life. I was so lucky I imprinted on you, but trust me, even if I hadn't imprinted, I would love you just as much as I did now. The tea parties and cookies weren't because of the imprint, but because you mean so much to me. I would do anything to make you happy—will do anything to make you happy. You are my world. If I spend my entire life with you, I would never want another thing. I love you." I stayed still. In my head, a million thoughts were going through my head. I tried to sift through them. I tried to decide what I could do to make this all go away. "Say something," he begged me.

I knew what he wanted me to say. But I couldn't. I felt the weight of his body on me. The heat came through my clothes. Too hot. I was too hot.

"Take me home please Quil." I heard him inhale. His grip on my shoulders tightened and a slight sob caught in his throat. I was already crying. I saw his face. Confusion and pain contorted it into some horrible vision that I didn't want to see on him. I cried harder knowing that I was the reason he was hurting. It was all me. But that didn't change what I was saying.

"What?" He whispered.

"Please. Please take me home, I want to go home."

The ride home was deathly quiet. I had to keep looking over to make sure Quil was still there. I turned the heat on high. Without Quil's touch, I was freezing. The tears kept falling. I couldn't get them to stop. They were slow when he pulled into my driveway. The brightness of the porch light stung my eyes. He stopped the car, put it in park and got out with the keys.

I turned around, struggling to get my crutches from the back seat. I wasn't fast enough. Quil opened the door and enveloped me. He wrapped my arms around my neck to stabilize me. His lips grazed me arm, so similar to what I'd done just minutes ago. He still didn't speak to me. Out of habit, I nuzzled against him. He was so warm. I could do this, I thought. He's always been there for me. I couldn't remember a sad or angry time with him; well aside from the time he cut Barbie's hair and dyed it pink. It took me forever to get over that. He knew me. He was one of the most gorgeous men I'd ever seen and he was completely in love with me. It was as if he was made only for me, molded to perfection.

So why could I just say it? Why could I just agree that he was the only one for me and love him? I knew the real reason why.

Quil didn't bother knocking on the door, he just walked right in. My parents were in the living room. They looked up from their magazines startled. Once they saw my cast, they rushed to Quil's side. He walked me into my room and placed me on my bed. He took my extra pillow and propped up my ankle before pulling my down comforter over me. I tried to smile at him as a thank you. He was distracted. His face still held the pained look I hated.

"Quil, what happened?" My mother asked, as if I couldn't speak for myself. Little did my mother know how right she was.

Quil didn't answer. He tucked the blankets around me, stooped low and kissed my forehead. It was sweet and lingering. And over before I knew it. Quil dropped his hands and left the room, passing my mother and father without acknowledging them.

"Sweetheart," my mother said, sitting down on the bed next to me. "What happened?"

I stared up at the ceiling. "I fell when Taylor took my ice skating. He took me to the hospital. I broke my ankle and they put the cast on. You guys weren't home, so I had them call Quil and he took me home." I wish that was it.

I hadn't fooled my mother. "That's not what I meant honey. I meant what happened with Quil. He didn't say a word to us, he looked so hurt. Did he say something to you?"

I covered my face with my hands. The spot where he kissed me still burned. I wanted to go back to before he'd told me, before I ruined everything.

"He told me he loved me," I said from between my fingers. Even from behind them, I could not miss the look that my father and mother exchanged between them. My mother bit her lip and my father shifted uncomfortably on to his other leg. "What?" I asked, "What is it?" Then suddenly, I comprehended what that exchange meant. "You know!" I accused. "You already knew this."

"Well honey, it was obvious. You could see it in the way he looked at you." My father said from the doorway. My mother nodded as if she was relieved. My father blew the hair from his eyes. "You're keeping something. There's something more, something you're not telling me." I gripped my mother's hand, rolling over to look at her. I let out a gasp. "Oh my God. You know that he imprinted. You know all about it!" I dropped my hand. They both looked nervous and hesitant. I had got it right.

"Baby, don't get upset. We didn't want you to find out this way, he was supposed to wait until you were eighteen and ready to make your own decision." My mother tried to soothe me. This information did quite the opposite.

"I'm almost eighteen anyway." I said, writing off that excuse. Small breaths slowly came to me. I was gasping for air. "You've known that since I was two, he's loved me? Since I was _two_?"

"It wasn't like that. We're your parents. We wanted the best for you. We didn't believe him at first, it took the entire pack to sit down and actually explain it. I was so disturbed by it, but Quil… he was so earnest. He told us pointblank that it was our decision, but that he would love and care for you. We gave him a year to prove to us that everything he promised us was true. And we watched. He played hours of Barbies, bought you the best dolls, and even let you do his makeup. He was an amazing babysitter and we never had one ounce or worry when he was with you." She took a deep breath. "So, we stayed. We knew that he loved you, possibly even more than we ever could. We told him that when you were ready, when you were eighteen, he could tell you."

"So that's it then? I don't have a choice?"

"No! No! You have a choice."

"I feel like this huge part of my life was decided before I even had a say in the matter. It's like my fate's already been decided for me." I closed my eyes and willed it all to go away.

"Look at me," I turned my eyes towards her, "You can say no, it's ok." She took my hands and held them together, willing me to listen.

A knock at the door interrupted us. My heart jolted. I knew it was him. Looking at my parents, they had the same idea.

"I'll get it," my father said, wiping his hands on his pants. I watched him cross the living room before he stepped out of my site. I heard the door open and my father's low voice mix with Quil's. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I knew he was sobbing.

"I hate this." I said.

"I know. But…" She hesitated, "Whatever you choose Claire, I have to tell you—there is no one else in this world that I would choose for you. Quil loves you and he would make you happy."

"Mom, it's my choice." I stated, "My choice. Please don't take that away from me." She was crying now. I could practically see her hopes for me disappear as I muttered, "I don't want him. Not now."

She leaned over and kissed me on the head, covering the heat of Quil's kiss. "Ok. I'll take care of it baby. Don't worry, get some sleep."

She turned out the light and walked away from me, shutting the door behind her. I knew Quil was on the other side. I heard my mother soothe him. I heard him repeat, "No". In my head, I saw him collapse into my mom's arms. I saw her comforting him from the pain that I had caused. I saw her brushing his hair like the son he always was to her. I could stop this if I wanted to. I could apologize and say I wanted Quil forever. But how was I supposed to know? I'd only dated a few guys and now I was supposed to find my soul mate at eighteen? That doesn't happen. What if there was someone out there better for me, but I couldn't find him because I was with Quil? I needed another chance. I needed to meet others. I needed to know that he was the right one before I committed. Why couldn't I ask for that chance?

I heard the door shut. I reached for the crutches that Quil had placed next to my bed. Hoisting myself up, I managed to stumble to the living room. My parents were sitting on the couch and had their heads pressed together, whispering. They stopped when they saw me.

"I want to leave please." Getting away and escaping La Push was the only way.

"Leave? Leave where? For how long?" Dad asked.

"I don't know. I just, I gotta get out of here. I need something new. Not forever, just for a summer or something. Can I visit Aunt Susan and Uncle Peter? I haven't seen Veronica in forever and I really miss her. And they're only in Los Angeles it's not that far away." They looked at each other. I wasn't sure if they were going to agree, but I was not going to back down. "Please. Please, I need this." Silence. They were measuring their options. "I'll never know if I don't go. I'll feel like the decision I made, or will make, wasn't mine own."

My father sighed. "Ok honey, I'll call my brother in the morning."

That night, I tossed and turned. I was still cold. I reached for my cell phone and had already dialed four digits before I remembered what had happened. I couldn't call him. It had all happened so fast. I got very scared that Quil would never forgive me. I had hurt my best friend. His pained face crept back into my thoughts. I felt the tears well up. I wasn't sure if I'd made the right decision, but I knew it was the necessary one. I just wish I didn't feel so alone.


End file.
